


Final Destination

by winter_angst



Series: Twilight [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternative Universe - Twilight, Blood, F/M, First Meetings, Love at First Sight, Murder, Origin Story, Time Period - 2006, Vampires, low calorie angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 14:09:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29297163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winter_angst/pseuds/winter_angst
Summary: Natasha wondered if she was his Final Destination. Death would find him because their paths had crossed. Perhaps the movies held more merit than she originally thought.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov
Series: Twilight [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2142930
Kudos: 3





	Final Destination

Natasha breezed through the meadow, feet hardly touching the ground. There was a heavenly scent in the air, one that smelled of butterscotch and juniper berries. She’d caught only a whiff of it at Triboji Beach. It was the best scent she’d stumbled upon in the sleepy state of Iowa and, lacking anything better to do, she devoted herself into finding the source. It was a substantial burden she placed upon herself but one she wore as a badge of pride. Their newest coven addition, Jack, cared little about her ventures. He was content in morose ways. Bucky, as she had come to know James as, and Steve simply wished her the best on her journey. And it was a journey. She’d been following the scent for over a week. Sometimes she lost it for upwards of a day at time and whenever it crossed her mind to give up on her silly escapade it would come back, as though a higher being was encouraging her. 

She tracked them from the beach south to Mud Lake. He was backpacking, she realized, and it was a thrilling realisation because humans plodded on so very ponderously. So now there she was, breezing her way across an open clearing, solely focused on the scent that fanned the flame in her throat to a roaring degree. Her thirst for them had been compounded by the game she had played and the devotion committed. They were shaping up to be the finest meal she’d had in decades.

She ran for thirty miles before she could hear a heartbeat and the wind carried with it the warm fresh scent of her target. Natasha scaled a tree to get an aerial view. Leaping from tree to tree she quickly caught up until she was a mere half mile behind him and kept her distance from there, savoring the moment as she appraised her prize.

It was a male, young but well built with broad shoulders supporting a large purple pack. He was alone, seemingly unbothered by that, and there was a jaunt in his step. Natasha leaped forward, grabbed the bough of an evergreen and swung her body upwards. She landed on the branch of a hackberry. It trembled under sudden weight and the leaves whispered against each other, far too quiet for the human ear. 

The human’s hair was blond and there was a leaf stuck in it that he hadn’t noticed or didn’t care to remove quite yet. Natasha almost wanted to smile but she needed to remain focused. She climbed higher and overtook him, passing his position and situating herself a quarter of a mile ahead so she could get a good look at his face. 

And what a face it was.

He had a strong jawline and bright blue eyes. His lips were pink and full and blood had rosied his cheeks as he walked. Natasha watched as he passed beneath her and turned to watch him go. The wind picked up, rattling the leaves together and wafting the venom producing scent towards her. Natasha set her jaw, suddenly grappling with indecision. She’d been hunting this human just shy of a week — a not insignificant amount of time, especially for a vampire as old as she was — and yet she was considering leaving the human alive? 

She shook her head and narrowed her thirst-darkened eyes. That was nonsense; she had tracked this human for hundreds of miles on trace scents alone. What she’d accomplished was commendable and she wanted to deny herself the reward for her efforts? It was sheer insanity; she couldn’t afford to entertain such concepts. 

But she was more than entertaining it as she leaped from tree to tree, keeping a close distance, she was considering it. They were heading towards a break in the treeline and the sun had broken through the veil of clouds that had protected Natasha when she had first entered the woods. If she was to strike, she’d have to do it now.

But she didn’t. 

She crouched among the shadows of the bur oak branches and watched the human step into the sun. It gleamed on his hair and Natasha’s lips upturned a bit though she couldn’t put a finger on why. 

Natasha didn’t give up the scent. 

She followed it like an overzealous devotee, like a religious zealot, and each time she got within striking distance, she froze. She satisfied her thirst along the way, victims of opportunity who all tasted fine but nothing like the promise of the scent she was tailing. 

Her body demanded one thing but her mind was undecided. Natasha’s mind had always been her strongest quality; it helped her survive when she woke up alone and new. She’d been gifted with Insight. She knew things before she could make sense of why she was so committed to these things. It was why she’d welcome a vampire she herself or a member of her coven had not made and it was why she knew that killing this human wasn’t the proper thing to do. 

But still, she followed him. When he made camp and slept, she got closer. Stood in the light of a fading fire and looked down at his handsome, still sleeping face and tried to understand why she couldn’t kill a human who smelled so very desirable. She deduced there was something about him, something extraordinary, and that it would be made apparent eventually. Until then she could enjoy looking at him because, truthfully, he was very nice to look at. 

When dawn began to break she would retreat on the shadows and begin her task anew. She wondered if her coven was worried about her but she knew that Bucky knew her well enough to know that she could keep after herself just fine. She was content to follow the man — Clint, she learned listening to him inside a diner just outside of Eagle Grove — and learn more about him through his infrequent interactions with other humans. 

He was nomadic, much like a vampire, never staying anywhere too long. During poor weather he’d pitch his tent and weather the storm. His scent was always intoxicating during rain showers, concentrated and heavy. While Natasha had control over her thirst she could had no say on the pain it caused her…and the pain it caused her seemed to double every day.

A week stretched to a month and Natasha’s attachment to the human grew exponentially. Clint was rather clumsy, his coordination was laughable and he was always getting bumps and scrapes. Never did that seem to bother him. A root would catch him off guard and send him sprawling to the forest floor, hands coming out to catch him resulting in scraped palms. Natasha could smell his blood from her perch in the trees. Never did he curse or complain; he laughed, dusted off, and kept going as though it had never happened.

Curious. 

As Natasha’s strange game continued a new urge surfaced — watching from a distance was no longer satisfactory; she needed to see him face to face. It was just as risky as it was stupid but once the thought crossed her mind it was lodged there. A stubborn idea that no amount of logic could unearth. Eventually she gave up trying to talk herself out of it and instead tried to plan her approach instead. Simply walking from the trees wouldn’t do, he’d ask questions about where she came from. She would have to wait until he went into a town to restock his supplies on a cloudy day and interact with him then.

She had no worry about catching his attention; attention was drawn to her whether she liked it or not, a downside of her beauty. It made being subtle impossible. She took it in stride however, finding new ways to mold that attention to fit her whims and angles. 

It took another two weeks for the chance to present itself. They were now in Eldora, a small city of just over 2,000, and Clint had, as Natasha had predicted, headed straight for a mom and pop diner. Natasha pushed down her hood and stepped free of the shadows. She crossed the road slowly, no traffic urging her forward. She had to pay attention to her pace; she had been moving at vampire speed for the past month and a half and she was out of practice with the art of being human. 

Slow, painfully slow, she crossed the road, looking through the diner window — past it’s scratched and minuscule cracks and pits in its surface — and watched Clint slide into a red booth. Even with her eyes trained on him she was still taking in his scent, body tuned in on it too intently to stop so abruptly. As she approached the door she caught a reflection of herself. Her long red hair was spilling over shoulders, loose curls bouncing with each step, eyes dark with a thirst she hadn’t satisfied yet, a blessing in disguise because she hadn’t thought to bring contacts along with her with what was supposed to be a feeding and nothing more. She pushed open the door and a bell hung in the corner tinkled. A waitress, back to her, said, “I’ll be with you in a second,” and Natasha ignored her going directly to Clint’s booth. 

Clint had a Motorola RAZR in his hands, grinning down at its screen, a cup of Coke at his side. He had a nice smile, it lit up his face. Natasha slipped into the booth and he didn’t notice her right away, her movement too smooth to have jostled the bench. She took the time to appreciate his smile and his scent up close but as the burn peaked she took to holding her breath, moving her shoulders as though she was still breathing for the sake of looking human. 

“Hello.” 

The phone tumbled to the table as he jumped violently, looking up to stare at her with wide frightened eyes. The fear gave way to shock and then momentarily back to fear as his base human instincts told him that she was dangerous. It was quickly overwhelmed by more complex thought, his eyes darting over trying to take in what he was seeing. She was used to being stared at but having Clint’s blue gaze on her felt…different in the most wonderful of ways. 

“Hey-hi,” he stammered, wrenching his eyes up to her face. “Do I know you?” 

“No.” Natasha saw the waitress looking around for her and when she finally found the newcomer she visibly started. “What are you getting?” 

“No idea,” he looked down at where the menu was propped in a wooden stand and then back at Natasha. “Uh… Can I buy you lunch?” 

“No thank you,” she crossed her legs. “Do you mind if I sit with you while you eat?” 

He uttered a nervous laugh. “I guess not… I’m Clint Barton.” 

He offered his hand and Natasha regarded though she did not take it. “I’m Natasha Romanov.” 

Tucking his hand back to his side he watched as the waitress approached. “What can I get you two?” 

“I have had a chance to look yet,” Clint said apologetically. 

The waitress was short with jet black hair in a pixie cut and rosacea. She looked at Natasha intently, seeking a flaw as most women did. When she didn’t find one she was crestfallen and left with a promise of checking back in soon. Back to the table Clint snuck a poorly hidden look at Natasha again. She could see him appraising her, taking tax of her outwardly perfect appearance. It was morbidly funny to consider where they were now to how they began. Natasha was no longer a hunter stalking her prey — the lion was lying with the lamb. 

She nudged his hulking purple pack with the tip of her flat. “You’re a hiker?” 

Clint straightened up at that, grinning. “Nope, cross stating. Just started like a month ago.” 

Natasha was well aware of that. “Oh really?” 

“I want to visit everywhere,” he confirmed. “There might not be much to be seen but I want to see it all.” 

It was ambitious for a human. Clint was clearly not the type to lay low. Natasha smiled; there was something so endearing about him. Innocent and genuine. His heart raced at her smile and that made it stretch wider. “Sounds like fun.” 

It had been fun tracking him, even when it didn’t promise a rewarding meal at the end. Even from a distance she could feel the excitement for each day radiating from him. It was like a drug, a hit of pure euphoria at the ordinary. It set Clint apart from the rest of the humans and Natasha didn’t know what to make of that quite yet. There was a lot to unpack when it came to Clint and she would need ample time to unravel it all. But for now she was going to indulge in this time with Clint, try and understand what it was that made him stand out from the rest of the morals in this state. Clint eventually reached for the menu though every few minutes he peeked over the edge of it as if to verify that Natasha was still there. Each time Natasha couldn’t help the smile that slipped across her face and the sound of Clint’s racing heart was the sweetest music she had ever heard. 

She uncrossed and recrossed her legs and scented the air. Immediately her throat seared furiously at her — she was sitting across from a meal she’d promised her body and was now withholding — and she put it at the back of her mind sorting through the other scents in the area. No vampires, just humans. The waitress finished filling the cups of two older men playing cards in a corner booth and replaced the pot behind the counter before pulling out an order pad and a click top pen. She approached hesitantly, sticking to Clint’s side. 

“What can I get you two?” 

“Just a bacon cheese burger for me. She says she doesn’t want anything,” he flickered a look at her to verify and Natasha nodded her head. 

“Fries okay with that?” 

“Mmhm.” 

“...I’ll get that right in.” she gave Natasha a strange look before she turned away and Natasha paid her no mind, turning her attention back to the human she was here for. 

Clint had folded the menu and stored it back in its place and now was toying with the flip phone, trying to stare discreetly. Natasha welcomed his human reaction to her. “So…are you from here?” 

“No, I moved her a few years ago. You?” 

“Born and raised,” he said without any hint of pride but a certain level of vindication, as though he had defied all odds to have remained so long. “Do you like it so far?” 

“It’s very calm.” 

Clint grinned. “That’s just a nice way of saying boring.” 

Natasha’s smile was real. “You’re not wrong.” 

Clint sighed wistfully. “I keep thinking about just up and leaving this damn place but I want to see everything here first. What if there’s something here that’s important and I miss it?” 

What if that something was Natasha? Her interest in the blond heightened. Outside rain began to fall, stray droplets erratically hitting the picture windows and running down. To many it would have been bleak but Natasha liked the rain. She liked how sharp it made scents and how she could walk freely in the daylight. It was rare that the sun shone in the rain so it was provided her nearly guaranteed cover if she wished to walk down the street during daytime hours. For her, rain was freeing. Clint frowned at it however and Natasha remembered that he was traveling on foot. Typically he checked into a motel when he went into the city to get cleaned up and restocked for his next journey but the walk to said motel was going to be a wet one for him. Natasha wished she had brought her car, at least then she could have offered a ride. Though she couldn’t imagine what it’d be like to be trapped in a small space with Clint and his incredible scent. It already burned her up to be in an open area. 

“Not a fan of the rain?” 

“If I wanted to get wet I’d go swimming,” he said morosely. 

Natasha laughed, a bell like sound that drew eyes from around the diner. The waitress’ eyebrows set firmly over her eyes. Clint’s heart hammered as a shy smile formed on his lips, subtly pleased with himself for having chartered such a sound from her. Natasha was just as pleased that he’d been able to. 

“I suppose that’s fair.” Natasha reached for the salt shaker; humans fidgeted and as much as she wanted to tune her attention solely on Clint so she didn’t miss a single reaction, a single tick, she had to keep her eyes moving. She let it roll between her fingers, spinning its edge on the table. “ So where are you heading next?” 

“Marshaltown,” he reported immediately. 

Still due west. Interesting. It’s populous was significantly larger than Eldora which would make tailing him a bit more complicated, should she continue to follow him from this point onward. That no longer seemed plausible — leaving Clint suddenly didn’t sound so simple as walking away. “I see.” 

“What has you in Eldora?”

Natasha hummed, a smile slipping across her face. “I’m not too sure yet.” 

Clint grinned, clearly mistaking her for being as nomadic as he was and, in a way, he wasn’t exactly wrong. Natasha had become Clint’s shadow and that made them more similar than they were different in this particular moment of time. Again she pondered what her coven was thinking about her absence but it was quickly dashed from her mind as the waitress returned with a plate piled with unappetizing looking human food. Clint grinned at it though, his eyes lighting up at the sight of it. 

“Thank you,” he said. 

She took his half depleted cup of Coke and left to refill it, ignoring Natasha completely. Women, she found, were either envious or insecure in her presence, as though they were unable to see their own beauty as they compared it to her own. Little did they know that hers was supernatural which made it significantly less impressive than their own naturally even bodies. He wasted little time removing the top bun and grabbing a glass bottle of ketchup sitting in front of the menus. Once he had the proper amount of red sauce he looked at the empty space in font of Natasha with a frown. 

“Are you sure you don’t want anything? My treat.” 

“I’m okay,” she assured him. “Eat.” 

Clint surely expended a lot of energy on his journeys — he needed to replenish it. Clint shrugged and took a bite. A glob of ketchup fell from the burger onto his pale yellow shirt and he didn’t notice immediately. Natasha pulled a napkin from the dispenser and held it out. Clint’s brow furrowed in confusion as he set down the burger. He took it, patting his face and Natasha nodded towards his shirt. He looked down and sighed. “Aww, shirt, no.” 

He wiped away the excess, frowned at the stain and continued eating but with significantly more care. Natasha had never really watched a human consume food and she watched engrossed. Clint didn’t seem to notice her attention preoccupied with enjoying the hot meal in front of him. Typically he survived off tinned items cooked over a gas camping stove. He poured more ketchup onto the plate for the fries after half the burger had been consumed. He was halfway through before the waitress returned, this time ignoring Natasha completely; she wasn’t getting food so she had no reason to carry on pleasantries. Natasha took no pleasure in it, she paid it very little mind. The only human that mattered was in front of her and she was still puzzled as to why he mattered so much. There was a reason, there was always a reason, but what it was evasive at the moment. 

“Uh, so, if you’re not from here where are you from?” 

Such an innocent question. She thought about the Russian Empire and the Soviet Union and then she thought about Italy and the Canadian wilderness. Then she thought about Brooklyn and all their moves after that. The better question would have been where she wasn’t from. Still such answers wouldn’t make sense to a human so she chose their last location. “Delaware.” 

“That’s pretty far from here.” Clint dipped another fry. “Did you like it?” 

“I lived in Wilmington. It was busy.” But the hunting ground had been superb. Much easier than the rural outposts of Iowa. It required less travel. “But I liked it.” 

“Why’d you leave?” 

Natasha smiled. “It was time to move on.” 

“I keep thinking I’ll know when it’s time to leave here — Barney did — but whenever I think about it I just get this feeling that something is unfinished,” Clint said, a worry wrinkle forming on his forehead. Natasha wanted to brush her fingers over the crease of skin and smooth it out. “I just can’t figure out what. Hence my cross state trip.” 

“Who’s Barney?” 

“My older brother.” 

“You’re close with your family?” 

Clint grimaced. “Not even close. The one I was closest to was Barney but he’s in the Philippines with some woman he fell in love with on MySpace.” 

“You disapprove?” 

Clint deflated. “No. He really loved her, I could tell. Just sucks knowing you’ll never see your brother again, you know?” 

“You could fly.” 

Clint shrugged. “Maybe someday. I’ve come to terms with it.” 

No family. Interesting. “Friends?” 

“Travelling doesn’t give you much time for hanging out with people. My high school friends didn’t really get why I was doing it. I’m sure they’re busy with college and stuff.” 

“No college for you?” 

“I’m all brawn, no brains.” Clint said with a crooked grin. 

Natasha smiled back. There was something so disarming about him, even though it felt like a white hot poker thrust into her throat whenever she inhaled around him to speak, it was worth it to hear what came out of his mouth next. She had to disagree with his assessment of himself. His blue eyes held intelligence, perhaps not in the traditional sense. Sometime deeper, something ancient that only a select few could claim they had. Natasha uncrossed her legs and crossed her ankles instead, blinking twice. It was easy to forget she had to be a human around Clint, she was so attuned in trying to figure him out it took all her concentration leaving little left for human mannerisms. 

“I think you have brains in there.” 

Clint grinned. “My teachers beg to differ.” 

“Clearly they’re the ones without brains,” Natasha replied. 

Outside the rain was picking up, coming down in heavy droplets in a steady pace rather than small erratic pellets. Clint picked up his burger, licking a bit of ketchup that had oozed from between the bun and patty. Natasha was struck by the similarity in color to blood. She filed it away for later deliberation. 

“What about you?” 

“Hm?” 

“Well you’ve clearly got the…the beauty,” his face flushed pink as he said it and Natasha’s smile grew. “Have you got the brains too?” 

“I like to think so.” Natasha set the salt shaker aside and Clint watched it as she settled it beside the pepper. 

“Can I ask… Can I ask why you're sitting with me? No that I mind, of course. Your company is very much appreciated — but of all the people here, why me?” 

“I’m not sure,” she admitted. “But it feels right.” 

Clint flushed. “I guess it does, doesn’t it?” 

The human felt it too? How curious. Natasha was hit with the fact she was sitting across from Clint, a human she’d stalked for so long. It was laughably in a morbid way; a predator befriending her prey and for what reason? The rain was coming down in sheets when he finished his food. The waitress had refilled his Coke and Clint ordered two slices of banana cream pie after ensuring that Natasha still wasn’t interested in eating. They spoke while he ate. Clint talked about his travels and Natasha pretended that it was all news to her. He was most enthusiastic about the dogs he’d encountered and a pizzeria he’d found in Eagle Grove. She found she enjoyed the pitches his voice reached when he spoke with enthusiasm. And he was enthusiastic. The most mundane of things seemed to excite him in a way it wouldn’t most humans. But Clint wasn’t like most humans. He was…different. 

Eventually he was scraping up the meringue from the plate and the rain was letting up slightly. He looked out the window and sighed heavily. “Guess I oughta deal with the rain now… Do you have a phone number?” 

Natasha nodded her head. Her flip phone had long since gone dead but she knew her number. He gave her his number and it was immediately committed to memory forever. She wouldn’t need to her nose to track down his location anymore; a call would do just fine. Clint was reluctant to go, hanging out as long as he could, dawdling over his Coke and telling Natasha about the shenanigans he’d gotten up in his youth. Typical teenage things; sneaking out, underage drinking and vandalism with spray paint. He was proud of his rebellion, as any young man would be, and Natasha found it endearing. In school he had competed in archery and had been the top in the state. Clint was impressive in unexpected ways. 

The rain had let up to a pattering when he finally slid from the booth and slipped on his pack. “I’ll text you,” he told her, a bit nervously. 

“I’ll be waiting for it.” Natasha replied and she would. 

With a wave they parted under the awning of the diner, Clint sprinting down the sidewalk and Natasha walking at a much slower pace across the road enjoying the feeling of rain splattering against her granite hard skin. The rain was a good cover for a feeding, Natasha grabbing a woman in a dark raincoat hurrying past her and darting into an alleyway. She dumped the body into a dumpster and continued on her way, mood elevating even higher than it already was. She would ponder Clint more once she was home; she had a connection to him and that soothed her more than she had expected. One afternoon together and she was worried about their time apart? How bizarre. 

•• •• •• ••

“I was beginning to think you’d left us for good.” 

Natasha emerged from the bathroom after washing the forest from her skin and hair. Jack was leaning against the wall, red eyes clouded with discontent as they usually were. Typically Natasha would have avoided a vampire like Jack; ones that loathed their own existence were a headache to be around, their mood infectious. 

“You’re not that lucky, Rollins. Hoping to take over the coven yourself?” Natasha asked, hiking the towel around her up a bit more. 

Jack’s nose wrinkled. “Absolutely not.” 

Natasha walked past him and paused to look at him. “Anything interesting happen to you while I was gone?” 

She held onto hope that he’d run into any vampire and they’d hit it off. Someone to shine some light on life for the bitter man. “No,” Jack looked confused. “Was something supposed to?” 

“A month is a long time,” she replied with a shrug. “A lot can happen.” 

Jack guffawed and turned towards the stairs. “If you say so.” 

Natasha opened the door to her room. It was exactly as it had been when she left, a blood red chaise in the middle of the room, a shelf of Russian classic novels on one wall and small trinkets from her years lined up neatly opposite. The thing she had most of was clothes and shoes from all the eras she’d lived through. A ball gown from the Russian Empire, shoddily made shoes from the USSR, dresses from the 50s, bell bottoms from the 70s, and halter tops from the 90s. The quality ranged from bargain brands to one of a kind designer pieces but each one held a special place in her heart, each item held a memory. 

She went to the packed closet, following her nose the scent of denim. Her fingers trailed over the rough spun material of trousers she’d worn in the 20s and she thought about Bucky back when he was hers and went by James. With a forlorn sort of smile she moved on and dressed in front of the full body mirror. 

Her skin was marmoreal and white, her eyes vividly red from her recent feeding. Her tresses hung heavily, still a bit wet from the shower, but still radiantly glossy even when water logged. She shucked off the towel and wrapped it around her hair, stepping into her jeans and fastening her bra. Flitting over the other side of the room she checked her phone for a message from Clint and was delighted to have one. 

Clint: It was nice 2 meet u

Natasha: It was nice to 2 meet u 2

She didn’t understand the shortening of the words but she knew it was a human habit — less buttons to press — so she emulated it. Clint sent a colon and a capital P. Natasha sent a smiley face. She found herself searching for a purple shirt and was pleased when she found one. Properly dressed she left the room to touch base with the rest of her coven. 

Bucky was in the living room, drawing the shades as the sun started to rise. When the sun was up they laid in wait, anticipating it sinking below the city line. Natasha crossed her hands over her chest and admired him. He was still as ruggedly handsome as she’d found him all those years ago. Muscle built from tending a farm alone, impressive stature and shoulder length tawny hair. She leaned against the door frame.

“Miss me?”

“I worried about you,” he finished drawing the shades and looked at her sternly. “It’s nice to tell someone before you go galavanting off for weeks at a time.”

That was fair. “I’m sorry,” she extended. “I didn’t intend it to take that long.”

“I thought you were hunting a human.”

“I was.”

“It took you that long to track them down?” 

His eyes narrowed, already not believing it. Natasha hadn’t intended to lie so it was no bother to her. She pushed off from the doorway and straightened up. “The plan changed.”

He regarded her warily for a moment, debating with himself whether it was worth it to try and press for additional information. “I trust you,” he said. “But we still worry.”

Natasha grinned. “You have nothing to worry about, kiddo.”

He rolled his eyes but a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “You’re not that much older than me…right?”

Natasha loved their fascination with her beginnings and more than that she loved to deny them the information. 

“A lady never tells.” She put on her best scowl and Bucky laughed. 

“Right, right sorry.”

Natasha bumped into Steve on the stairs and the blond hugged her, sharing how happy he was that she had come back to them. Natasha was startled to think that they assumed she would just take off and leave their coven to fend for themselves. But she would worry more on their take of her leadership later on. For now she was focused on Clint. 

He had texted her back, a smiley face of his own, and Natasha was suddenly struck with not knowing what to say. She balanced the phone on her middle finger and stared at the corner of the room as though it would speak to her and offer suggestions. She knew that seeking counsel with her fellow coven mates would go over poorly and they would, undoubtedly, talk sense in her that she wasn’t interested in facing. There was something else in motion; something stronger than reason alone could manage. 

Just holding the cellphone knowing it connected her to Clint was affording her with strange energy she’d never known. She wanted to run, to sprint, and being cooped up inside during a bright day was nothing short of torture. She had expected the weather, after a day of torrential rain the sun always came out to dry things out. Around her she could hear her coven moving. Bucky was walking across the bedroom floor and Steve had the record player on with Glenn Miller singing. Ever once in a while she heard the rustle of a page being turned as Jack read. 

Everything was as it was supposed to be but it felt so wrong suddenly. Like there was something important missing; like she wasn’t meant to have come home so soon. She took the phone in her hand and, after a moment of deliberation texted, ‘Can I see u 2nite?’

The reply was quick and brought a smile of Natasha’s face and soothed the earlier upset.

Clint: Ya. Same place?

Natasha: Same place.

•• •• •• ••

The waitress looked dismayed when Natasha appeared, frowning in her direction. Paying her no mind Natasha scanned the room for Clint and found him in the same booth they’d been in yesterday. His pack was gone, clearly back at the motel, and he had cleaned up well. He hastily stood when he caught sight of her and Natasha appreciated the action. She remembered a time with chivalry was commonplace and nowadays it was in such short supply that seeing it was a reminder of simpler times. 

She sat and he did so as well. He was nervous, his scent tinged with fear. It still had the same impact on her, sparking roaring flames in her throat that were nearly impossible to stand. It was her fault she had such a reaction; she’d taken a good scent and worshipped it until her body craved it. She deserved the suffering that came along with her poor choice. 

The waitress took her time coming over, this time Natasha caught her introduction: Mable, a name too old for the young woman standing at the end of the table. “What can I get you two to drink?”

“I’ll take a Coke,” Clint said and looked to Natasha.

“Water.” She wouldn’t drink it, she would toy with it and pretend to drink it occasionally. 

The waitress nodded stiffly at her and walked away. “So what brought you back to Eldora?” Clint asked nervously, knowing the answer and both dreading and eagerly anticipating it. 

“You.”

Clint gulped, heartbeat picking up. “Oh?”

“Oh,” she confirmed, tucking a strand of her red hair behind her ear. “What did you get up to today?”

Natasha still had no concrete reason for being here other than satisfying the urge to do so, so gathering more information about the man seemed to be the best usage of their time together. 

“I restocked a few things I’d need before I check out and head to Marshaltown.” Clint shrugged. “What about you?”

Natasha thought about her day listening to pages turning and music through the wall. “Not too much, I spent it at home.”

“Enjoying the sunshine?” Clint asked eagerly.

Natasha giggled, a sound she had made once in her second life and it took her by surprise. What he’d asked wasn’t even funny but hearing it come from his mouth so unknowingly had just struck something deep in her that said it was humorous. The sound itself was like a melody and Clint looked dazzled for a moment, jaw falling slightly slacked as he looked at her, dreamy-eyed. The moment lasted only five seconds or so and soon Clint was blinking out of his trance, color pooling in his cheeks, one hand ruffling his hair. 

“Sorry, that wasn’t very funny, was it?”

“I dunno… Maybe?” Clint grinned warily. “I take it you didn’t enjoy the sunshine?”

“I prefer cloudy days.”

Clint looked at her as though she had three heads and then really looked at her and finally took notice of her pale skin. “Oh,” he said with a nod. “Yeah, the sun’s not all it’s cracked up to be. Pretty ruthless — especially when it comes to sunburns.”

Clint burned easy. She had watched him bake in the sun from a distance in the weeks she had trailed him. But she acted as though this was new information and frowned sympathetically. “And that’s why I prefer cloudy days.”

“You know what? Me too.” He said with vindication. “Fuck the sun — excuse my language.”

Natasha laughed. “Fuck the sun,” she agreed.

The waitress came shortly afterwards when Clint was filling her in on the old man who sold him propane canisters for his little cook top who had gone off on a tangent about how the granola population was going to put him out of business and asked about ordering. Once again neither had taken a look at the menu. With a poorly hidden look of annoyance she said she’d come back. 

Once she was gone Clint lowered this voice and said, “I don’t think she likes me.”

“It’s not you she doesn’t like.”

Clint looked confused. “Why wouldn’t she like you? You’re…” he trailed off, cheeks red once more. 

“I think I make her self conscious,” Natasha shared. 

“Oh,” Clint said, finally putting it together. “I guess that makes sense. I mean you’re…”

“I’m what?” Natasha knew what he wanted to say but suddenly it was important that she hear it, that she know for certain that it was what he truly thought.

Clint’s face red and he took time unwrapping his straw and putting it in his cup. “Beautiful,” he mumbled, looking up through his dark lashes. 

Warmth blossomed in Natasha’s chest. She knew she was beautiful but having Clint call her it was another level all together. “Thank you. I think you’re very handsome.”

His cheeks went, impossibly, an even a darker shade of red and he took a hasty sip of his Coke. The evening crowd was a bit thicker than the midday crowd had been but they weren't too aware that strangers had intruded on their routine — except the waitress of course. Clint looked up from his cup with sudden confidence. “Is this a date, then?” 

“Would you like it to be?” 

That courage was dashed and his boldness was replaced by subservience and he shrugged and lowered his eyes as though he’d been scolded. Natasha hadn’t been on a date once in her second life and if she’d been courted in her first one she had no memory of it. She knew enough about humans from TV to know what a date consisted of and, by that logic, that surely could be considered a date. But a date suggested romantic interest. Was the interest she had in Clint romantic? 

She took a moment to mull that over. Romance was a finicky thing that she always assumed would be wildly obvious. She felt a draw towards him, a fascination she’d never experienced before that didn’t involve satisfying her thirst. Perhaps what she was feeling was romance and in that case, what did that mean moving forward. 

“I dunno,” he said a bit sullenly. “I guess I was just thinking… Friends are cool too, y’know. I didn’t mean to assume anything I just — ”

“It’s a date,” Natasha decided and Clint gaped at her. 

“Wha’…really? You’re on a date with me?” 

“Yes.” This was strange and new and Natasha had no idea what her next move was. It seemed to be a trend when she was around him; her common sense disappeared as she followed her gut in new, strange directions she would never have found herself in otherwise. “It’s a date.” 

Clint beamed and it was a welcome sight as well as infectious. As a smile spread across her face Clint’s heart pounded and he looked down. Natasha crossed her legs and thought about what her next move would be. Romance was senseless, she realized with a brief spark of annoyance. It had thrown a wrench into the cogs of her life and now she had to attend to it before she could move on. Either it would have to be removed or shaped to keep the gears turning. Removing Clint was displeasing as a thought so shaping him was the only option. 

She hadn’t turned anyone but Bucky and their fiery years before Steve still lingered in the back of her mind when she saw him. She didn’t linger on it, not intentionally, but there would always be a connection between them, a creator and her creation. Was she ready to risk her heart again? It may not have beat but it could break and it’d taken decades to properly piece it back together even when she was wishing the best for Bucky and Steve. But even as she weighed the options her heart had made its decision and her mind would go with it. She would turn him, she had to. A human and a vampire were a cursed, impossible pairing and one that would draw the wrong kind of attention. Even this fraternization could be misinterpreted so it was in her best interest to make quick work of it. 

Clint picked up the menu and Natasha mirrored the action. She watched Clint from over the edge of the menu and imagined him turned. His tanned skin would be snowy, hard as stone, and sculpted to perfection. While it was easy to pinpoint all his human flaws that the turn would smooth out she thought that she would miss them. The arrow tattoo on the inside of his arm would fade as the pigment was bleached from his skin. Would he miss it? Archery had once been a big part of his life — it still could be, she reminded herself. Steve still drew and painted, occasionally selling a piece but being careful not to draw too much attention onto himself. Arts could be enjoyed but never excelled too far in fear of too much publicity. Once in the public’s eye it was impossible to disappear from under the scope completely. 

Clint sucked on his teeth as his eye blue eyes roamed the menu. They were a nice color, indigo like the open sky. It would be a pity to see them turn red. “Chicken fried steak,” he decided suddenly, setting down the menu. 

Natasha smiled and set her downs. She’d opted for a cobb salad which she knew would be extremely underwhelming but she had no intentions of actually eating it. Salads were good to pick apart and look like some had been eaten. “So, since this is a date and all, what do you do?” 

“I’m a pharmacist,” Natasha replied. 

She’d selected the job in the 60s, studying to take up the hours of the days. She considered medical school but she didn’t want to torture herself by being around blood for hours at a time. Clint looked impressed and that pleased Natasha more than she’d expected. Never did she think she’d actually find gratification in the satisfaction of a human but here she was. 

“I’m currently using up the money I saved up working as a bag boy for four years through school,” Clint shared. “I’m running low so I’ll have to start doing some odd jobs… School isn’t for me, as you can tell. Can’t sit still long enough.” 

Natasha couldn’t imagine the blond in a classroom, try as she may. He was built for the outdoors, trekking through the woods, hauling logs, chopping firewood. A smile slipped across her face as he went on to remind her of his passion for pizza and dogs — two highlights of his existence it seemed. Natasha hoped he wouldn’t miss pizza too much when he could no longer eat human food. But maybe she was getting too far ahead of herself; what if Clint saw what she was and wasn’t interested in immortality? They had only just met from Clint’s perspective. He hadn’t spent hours watching and learning about her from afar as she had him. That was a complication she had to plan for. 

Humans couldn’t know about their existence so if he refused she would have to finish her hunt. 

The waitress stomped over to get their orders and left as quick as possible which Natasha didn’t mind in the slightest. Already she was imagining Clint hunting with her, bounding through the trees with the wind in his hair, hands clasped together; she imagined them making love and lying together. It was all so easy to picture, Clint with red eyes and a white, lifeless body. One durable enough to handle her own. Even now, across from him, she ached to touch him, to feel the soft skin of his face while it was still warm so she could know it as it was. Instead she sat still, moving her shoulders as if she was breathing and listened to the baritone of his voice. 

Their plates came and Clint took a break from talking to cut into a very unappetizing looking brown disc with some gray viscous liquid poured on top of it. Natasha’s plate was equally unappealing, green sheets of a lettuce, egg and the like all piled together in a haphazard mess, drenched with dressing. Natasha picked up her fork, forked a piece, brought it to her lips, twirling the fork and brought it down the plate, scrapping the lettuce off on the side of the plate. The right actions that, as long as no one was looking too closely, which very few ever did, would give the appearance of eating. Clint ate with gusto, clearly pleased with his chicken fried steak. Would he miss human food a lot? 

“I’ve been talking so much about me, I haven’t really asked about you,” Clint said after a long pull from his Coke. “What about you?” 

She had good reason to lower the forked bite from her lips. “What about me?” 

“Well… I know you don’t like sunshine, what else don’t you like?” 

Natasha was fairly certain that dates were supposed to be about things that the person liked, not that they disliked and she enjoyed the twist. “Hm, I’m not a fan of the Final Destination franchise.” 

Clint gasped in horror and Natasha laughed. She was rewarded with an increase in his heart rate but it didn’t distract him from his passion for the films. “Final Destination 3 was cinematic excellence, okay? Plus, it’s a pretty original idea isn’t it? Once your time for death comes, it’s gonna get you regardless.” 

Natasha wondered if she was his Final Destination. Death would find him because their paths had crossed. Perhaps the movies held more merit than she originally thought. “Maybe,” she said with a coy smile.

“Okay, any more wrong opinions I should know about going forward?” 

“I don’t get the big deal with MySpace. I find it to be a headache.” Technology was always evolving and it was a bit more a headache with each change. Bucky loved it and Jack adapted with chilling ease. Only Natasha and Steve seemed to see the value in how things used to be. “I don’t think George Clooney should have been voted the Sexiest Man Alive.” 

“Now I’m going to stop you right there,” Clint said sternly, pointing at her with his fork. “You do not get to diss my man, Clooney. He is a beautiful man.” 

She laughed and a few eyes found them but Natasha didn’t care in the slightest. “My apologies.” 

“I forgive you this time. Don’t let it happen again,” he tutted her. 

“I will say that Steve Irwin’s death was a loss.” 

Clint frowned. “Yeah, that was awful. I’m sure he’s up there playing with all the animals that go there.” 

“You think there’s something up there?” 

“Hm?” 

“You said up there. Do you believe in God?” Perhaps it was too intense of a question but that could play a role in his decision. 

Clint took a bite and chewed as he thought. “I think there’s something but I don’t know if we know its name. Maybe it’s God, maybe it’s Buddah, maybe it’s the Greek Gods. But I know there’s gotta be something there. At least I hope so. If not it’s gonna suck when I die.” 

Natasha smiled and backtracked to lighten up the conversation. “Also that Facebook thing? I don’t see it taking off.” 

“Yeah, me neither. MySpace is too big. Plus, it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, y’know?” 

Natasha understood that mindset completely. “I agree completely.” 

They lingered over their meals talking about everything they possibly could; celebrity divorces, the Mel Gibson scandal, Britney Spears, the rise of YouTube, Happy Feet and Chuck Norris jokes. Clint was, in spite of his self proclaimed lack of brains, well read. Regardless of his nomadic lifestyle he was keeping up on world events. He mentioned the end of the war between Japan and Montenegro and the introduction of Blu-Rays. By the time his plate was empty and Natasha’s disassembled to look like she’d eaten, the crowd was thinning and the waitress kept coming to ‘check-in’. Natasha didn’t mind her insistence they leave, Natasha had plans to make. 

Eventually they got up and found their way under the red and green awning. Clint was rubbing the palms of his hands on his jeans, looking around nervously. Natasha knew what was going through his mind, what he wanted to do, and she welcomed it. The second their lips would touch he would know there was something otherworldly about here, something inhuman. If he ran in fear, she would catch him and it would hurt but she’d do what she had to protect the lives of her coven. But if he didn’t… The possibility swirled around her. Clint, deathly white with red eyes holding her hands, smiling and exposing his venom coated, razor sharp teeth but they were no danger to her. Their fingers knotted together. Love. They would truly love on another if things went as she hoped they would. 

“It was really great to see you tonight,” Clint said. “I mean… It was amazing, really. I don’t go on dates a lot and this was one was, by far, the best ever. I mean ever.” 

“It was a wonderful evening together,” Natasha agreed and she meant it. 

The moment came on quickly and he leaned forward boldly, angling his face downwardly. Natasha kept her eyes open to see his reaction. She would be able to pinpoint the fear. His lips were a warm brush against her own as they molded around hers, cold and hard. Clint pulled back abruptly, blinking wildly in confusion. Natasha imagined it was like kissing a statue. 

“Your lips…” He trailed off looking confused. 

“Can I see your room?” 

It was a gamble. He could spook easily at this stage and all progress would be lost. Natasha would be reduced to doing something she really didn’t want to do. Clint was still blinking wildly, looking around as if someone else could confirm what he’d just experienced. The streets were empty, a man with headphones passing by them without so much as a glance. 

“Clint?” Natasha prodded gently. 

“Oh, umm, yeah… Yeah, okay. Will you tell me why your lips are so…” 

“I’ll explain everything.” 

He looked troubled but nodded his head. “Okay, it’s this way.” 

Clint held out his hand and Natasha didn’t hesitate to take it. He inhaled sharply at her cold, hard touch but he didn’t let go. He held on a bit tighter, as if looking for some kind of give and when he didn’t find any, abandoned the task and focused on leading her down the sidewalk. 

Natasha thought it was going rather well. 

•• •• •• ••

Clint opened the motel room door. It was bare boned, a double bed with a basic floral patterned comforter. His pack was resting against the wall by the door and he groped for the light which casted a yellow glow on the small room. He opened the door and stepped aside with a very impressive attempt at a smile. There was hesitance in his eyes, suspicion stemming from their very unconventional experience beneath the awning. She took a bold step in, never one to shy away. She reached the center of the room, eyes taking in every tinny detail and turned her attention to Clint as he closed the door. He remained facing it a moment, clearly mustering the courage to turn and face her. 

“What…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “I kissed you but your lips… They were so hard. And you hand -- your skin…”

“I’m not human, Clint.” Natasha said. 

She’d decided it was better to come right out and say it. No point beating around the bush and prolonging something that would have to be addressed. Tonight Clint’s life would take a new course; he would either live forever or face the unknown sooner than he had expected. Natasha really hoped it would the latter because the former would certainly haunt her. 

“Yeah…” he paused as if he was doubting her sanity before he put together the inconsistencies. “I mean if you’re… If you’re not… What the hell are you, then? An angel?” 

Natasha laughed at that, she couldn’t help it. She was the farthest thing from a pure spirit. Her existence was death itself. If she was to be related to anything a demon would be more fitting. Clint didn’t look amused in the slightest; he scowled at her — he didn’t like laughter at his expense. “Okay, if you’re not an angel what are you?” 

“I’m a vampire.” 

His eyes widened, looking her over. “But I saw you during the daytime.” 

“Don’t believe all the things you hear about vampires, most of it is fabricated.” 

“Okay,” he drawled, dragging about the ‘a’. “So you say you’re a…a vampire. Does that mean that you want to…suck my blood?” 

“In the beginning I wanted to.” 

He looked warily at her. “But now…?”

“Now, I’ve come to care for you.” Natasha took a step towards him and he winced but did not retreat. Natasha let him acclimate to her new closeness. “I feel an…attachment to you that I never have before.” 

“I haven’t met anyone like you before, either,” Clint admitted and he rubbed the back of his neck. “So what does that mean?” 

“It means that perhaps we were fated to be together.” 

“Does that exist?” he asked curiously. “Is that why I feel so strongly for you already?” 

Natasha thought about Bucky and Steve and the quickness in her own feelings when it came to Clint. It had to exist. “Yes, yes I believe it does.” 

Clint jutted his chin out bravely and nodded his head. “Okay. Okay, I’m in love with a vampire. What now?” 

“Well, humans and vampires aren’t allowed to be together. Our existence is a secret kept under wraps by a counsel.” 

Clint frowned at her as he tried to piece together the next step. “So what does that mean for…us?” 

Natasha found she liked the use of ‘us’ when Clint talked about them. It further solidified the decision she’d made and told her that she was on the right path. “It means that for there to be an ‘us’ you’d have to become one of us.” 

His eyes popped open. “A vampire?” 

“Yes.” 

He walked around her and sat heavily on the end of the bed. He stared at the blank TV screen and then turned to look at her. “What’s it like?” 

“It’s all I know.” she replied. “It’s better when you’re not alone.” 

“I won’t be alone though, right? I’d have you?” 

“Of course you’d have me. And I would have you.” 

Clint bobbed his head. “You said that stuff I know about vampires isn’t real — what’s real? Like can a stake kill you? Holy water and crosses and all that?” 

Natasha’s lips twitched upwards in amusement. “Ideas dreamt up by humans to protect themselves from something they don’t understand. Our skin is impenetrable to almost everything. We have heightened strength and speed compared to humans.” 

Clint’s eyes were big and blue and Natasha moved closer. There was a slight flinch but nothing as overt as the first time. It was to be expected considering everything she’d just dropped on him. She could practically see his human mind trying to wrap its way around it. All she could was be patient. 

“Are you really a pharmacist?” 

That startled a laugh out of Natasha that brought a small smile to Clint’s face and an acceleration to his heartbeat. “Of all the things I’m telling you, that’s what you’re worried about? Yes, I am really a pharmacist.” 

“Well I just thought… With all this supernatural junk that you wouldn’t really have time.” 

“Time is something you have plenty of when you don’t sleep.” 

“You don’t sleep? No coffins and all that?” 

Natasha smiled. “No coffins.” 

“Do all vampires look like you?” 

“I think it's to make hunting easier,” Natasha said and Clint grimaced; she’d forgotten that he wouldn’t be comfortable with the gritty details of it yet. “Yes, they do.” 

“I wonder what I’d look like,” he pondered aloud. 

“A tuned up version of what you look like now. So perfecting what’s already nearly perfect.” 

“Nearly?” he said with a faint grin. Natasha was glad he was getting his sense of humor back. “Ouch.” 

“I like you as you are,” Natasha replied evenly. “But things would change once you were turned. You would lose any flaw, any freckle, any tattoo, everything. Your skin would be a blank canvas that you can never decorate.” 

Clint frowned and looked down at his purple arrow. “Really, tattoos? Can I get it redone?” 

“No needle is sharp enough to pierce our skin.” 

Clint sighed wistfully. “That has to suck.” 

Natasha shrugged. “You get used to it.” 

“So how old are you?” 

Natasha smiled wryly but chose to keep it to herself in fear of scaring him off. “Ladies don’t tell.” 

He scrutinized her but he sighed heavily. “Well, I guess this is it. What happens now? You drink some of my blood, I drink some of yours?” 

Natasha chuckled. “We don’t have blood.” 

“What, really? So what’s in your veins?” 

“Nothing.” 

“That’s crazy.” Clint said, shaking his head. “So how do you make someone into a vampire then? Who made you?”

The question brought a frown to her face. Her own mysterious beginnings only brought upon unsatisfactory responses. For everything she knew about their anatomy there were ten more that she didn’t. She was far from an expert, taking each day as it came and learning as she went along. At her age very few things caught her by surprise but she didn’t rule out something remarkable unearthing her understanding at some point. In fact, she expected it. 

“A bite. And I don’t know. They left me.”

Clint frowned. “Why would they do that?”

“I don’t know. But I wouldn’t leave you,” she promised; never would she turn someone and leave them to pick their way through life the way she did. 

“I know.” Clint said, determinedly. “So, say you do turn me, how do you do it?”

“Like I said, I bite you. The venom on my teeth — ”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” He held up his hand Natasha, a bit irked by the interruption, obediently stopped speaking. “Venom? What are you, a snake?”

“No,” Natasha had to be patient. This wasn't an easy thing for a human to grasp out of the blue. “It replaces all of our bodily fluids. I don’t have saliva, I have venom glands.” 

Clint looked at her as though she had two heads — or rather, as though she had just said she had venom glands. He shook his head. “Of course you do.” 

“You’re taking this very well,” Natasha extended and got a weary look in return.

“Oh, am I?”

“Yes.”

“It doesn’t feel like I am. It feels like…like, I just found out monsters exist. Not that I think you’re a monster,” he said quickly looking up at her. “I just meant…supernatural creatures.”

Monster was a fitting word vampires though. A danger to humans, blood drinking fiends that lived in the darkness. Natasha was a monster and was pulling Clint into her dark world. She knew she would feel bad about it but the only feeling in her was anticipation. To have this man be hers for eternity. It was egotistical but she was never one to deny herself. 

“You could have run off screaming out of the room but you haven’t,” Natasha reminded him, leaving out the bit of what she’d have to do if he tried. She wanted him to make the choice unbiased, unaware that his life depended on it. “I’d say that’s pretty impressive.”

“That’s me,” he laughed weakly. “Impressive Clint. Hawkeye Hiker extraordinaire.” 

Natasha remembered following him up Hawkeye Point and the self satisfaction he had found simply being up there, the highest point in the entire state. “You looked happy up there.”

“You were following me?”

Natasha inclined her head. “Hunting you, rather.”

Clint squinted at her. “How long were you following me exactly?”

“A month, about.” Natasha shrugged and Clint’s eyes widened.

“A month?”

“Yes”

“Why didn’t you just kill me?”

“At the time I couldn’t figure out why. It wasn’t until today that I realized why.”

Clint dropped head into his hands, now utterly overwhelmed. That bit of information seemed to have been the final straw that broke his mentality in the matter. He wasn’t crying but his groan was disheartened and mournful. Natasha sat lightly beside him and didn’t shift aways so she wrapped an arm around him. She doubted it provided much physical comfort, her body hard and frigid, but Clint didn’t lurch away so she took it as acceptance. 

“I’m sorry,” she hedged, hoping to mend whatever damage she may have done to the two of them. 

He picked up his head a bit and looked at her. “It’s okay, I guess. I mean, you decided not to kill me and, hell, if I’m going to be stalked it may as well be by a sexy vampire.” He heard himself and blanched. “I mean pretty. Sorry.”

Natasha smiled and was rewarded with a racing heart. Good, she hadn’t lost her effect on him. “I don’t mind being called sexy by you, Clint Barton.”

The human flushed but with a smile. He was incrementally straightening up as they continued to talk, the shock of being tailed for so long fading a bit. Clint was, if nothing else, resilient and Natasha admired that. Fated connections, love at first sight, soul mates — whatever name it went by, Natasha was experiencing it. The fondness she had for Clint only seemed to grow, deepening as her mind drew elaborate fantasies to their time together in the future. They were meant to be together, regardless of her initial intentions, all that mattered was what was happening now. 

“As long as I didn’t offend you…” he trailed off, looking at her. “Would I be losing anything more than my ink?” 

“Those blue eyes of yours.” 

He frowned looking confused and Natasha blinked through her contacts. He jolted away from her in surprise, leaping from the bed. Natasha let him go, hand falling to rest on the mattress. “Your eyes,” he choked out. 

“They’ll be red,” she said calmly. “They get darker when you’re thirsty.” 

“So you’re not thirsty right now?” 

“No, I ate recently.” 

He looked at her warily and Natasha reminded herself what her meals meant to a human. She had confessed casually to take a life. Never had she thought she’d have so much trouble communicating with a human. “Right,” he ruffled his hair again. “Right. Okay. Red eyes. A little freaky but I can, umm, I can get over that… I think.” 

Natasha offered her hand. She wanted him back to her side — she wanted to be touching him again. But she was unwilling to push too hard too fast. They had all night to hash out the particulars, build up an immunity to the things like feeding off the living; for now she would comfort him. That was all she could do. Clint looked at her hand with great reluctance but took it, letting her lead him back to the bed. He sat on the edge, ready to spring away at a moment’s notice. It was an ideal position but Natasha knew it was the best she was going to get. Clint was taking deep breaths, clinging to the halcyon times before he knew about the supernatural. Natasha tightened her hold incrementally; humans were fragile and the very last thing she wanted to do was break him. She looked forward to when he would be durable like her though, her mind raced over all the scenarios of what they could do once he was. 

“I know it’s a lot.” 

“Do you?” he laughed mirthlessly. “I mean… God, yesterday I was just looking forward to getting something with bacon on it and then…and then this supermodel comes in and eats with me and I keep thinking, when’s the other shoe gonna drop, y’know? And well, it has. Turns out said supermodel is a vampire.” 

Natasha frowned sympathetically. She felt for him. Surely the shock of it all was weighing heavily on him. But, all of that considered, he was still taking it incredibly well. He got up and paced to the mini fridge, to Natasha and then back again twice before he eyed here. “Anything else I should know about?” 

“Nothing as…intense,” Natasha replied. “Our skin reflects sunlight which is why we have to stay inside on sunny days.” 

“What do you mean ‘reflects’?” 

“I’ll show you in the morning,” Natasha said before she paused and said, “Assuming I’m welcome to stay.” 

This was it. The first big test to see just how far Clint could take things. The blond shook his head. “I’m not going to kick you out or anything, Natasha. I just… Man, it’s a lot to take in, you know?” 

Natasha smiled, delighted in his reaction. “I know it is. Ask me whatever you want.” 

“Okay… Okay. The blood thing,” he cringed a bit. “How do you pick who you…”

“Opportunity,” Natasha was honest and straightforward. “I hunt at night. So people who are alone are my prime targets.” 

“Just anybody? Adults…kids?” 

“I’ve yet to find a child wandering the streets at night and if I did, I wouldn’t.” 

Clint nodded his head looking a bit relieved at that. Natasha was a monster but she wasn’t monstrous in that regard. Not to mention the blood volume in a child wouldn’t satisfy her anyway. But she chose not to share that with Clint; he’d get the wrong idea. “Okay, good. How did you change your eyes like that?” 

“Contacts.” 

“But how did they just disappear?” 

“Venom.” 

“It’s in your eyes too?” he asked, horrified. “Doesn’t it burn?” 

“The venom is what keeps my eyes lubricated. The only thing that bothers my eyes is the contacts themselves. All the imperfections in them are very distracting.” Natasha crossed her legs. “I see better without them.” 

Clint nodded looking a bit faint as he slowly sat down beside her. He was closer than he had been previously, the bond between them strong enough to survive the stress of the situation. It must have been fated. There was no other possible reason that things would be going so well if not. 

“Okay. So, why are your eyes red?” 

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “They just are.” 

Clint frowned. “What color were they before?” he asked curiously. 

It was an unexpected question and Natasha didn’t have an answer for him. So she shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t remember.” Natasha had learned, from Bucky, Steve, Jack and those she’d happened upon in all her years, that human memories faded quickly after a vampire was born into their second life. “Human memories fade.” 

“They do?” 

“Yes.” 

“Do you remember much about when you were a human?” The questions were getting exceedingly personal but Natasha didn’t feel as defensive as she had when Jack had started asking questions when he first came sniffing around the coven. 

“No. I don’t remember any of it.” 

Clint frowned sympathetically. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be. You can’t miss what you don’t remember having. All I know is this life and I don’t mind it in the slightest.” 

It was a partial truth but Natasha figured partial honesty was almost as good as full honesty when he came to the topic. Things got convoluted and messy when it came to regrets and wishes, especially in the matters of immortality. But all those regrets and wishes suddenly seemed negligible in the presence of Clint; it felt like there was something much bigger in play. 

“So if I… If I became a vampire like you… I’d forget about everything?” 

“Eventually.” Natasha couldn’t candy coat the truth. She could probably get away with it — vampires rarely noticed when the human memories started to fade — but she didn’t want to lie to Clint. “But you make new memories. In fact, you remember everything.” 

“Everything?” he asked incredulously. 

“Everything,” she confirmed with a nod. “I can remember every second of every day since I woke up a vampire.” 

Clint shook his head. “Why am I surprised? Of course you can.” Clint mussed up his hair even worse than it already was. Natasha reached up to smooth it out on instinct. His tresses were soft against hers fingers and she found she liked the sensation. Clint stilled at her touch but didn’t pull away. No, he leaned in. “What’s it like remembering everything? I would forget my head if it wasn’t screwed on.” 

Natasha smiled fondly at him. “It becomes a part of you. You adjust.” 

“Adjust,” he murmured. “And you want me to become one of you?” 

“Yes.” Finally the conversation was turning full circle. “What do you think?” 

“I think the idea of drinking blood is kinda gross.” 

Natasha laughed. “I suppose that’s fair.” 

He angled his body to face her. “It’s the only way we can be together, isn’t it?” 

“Yes.” 

“Then I guess I don’t have much of a choice. True love, or whatever this is, means that it’s supposed to happen.” 

Natasha was thrilled that he saw things the same way he did. “I agree.” 

Clint rubbed his hands together and looked around the room nervously. “So, what, you bite me and suddenly I’m a vampire with creepy red eyes?”

“There’s a transformation that takes place,” Natasha corrected him carefully. “It’s not instantaneous and it’s not exactly... painless.” 

The memory of her brutal beginning intruded on her a moment and she shuddered. “How bad is it?” 

“It’ll be the worst pain you’ve ever felt in your life.” 

Clint gulped. “Oh. Well. That sounds lovely.” 

Natasha smiled sadly. “A necessary evil. But once it’s over, you will be immortal.” 

“I’ll be able to be with you,” he asked, clearly more focused on that than the idea of living forever. “Right?”

“Forever.” 

Clint took a deep breath. “Okay,” he said. “I’m ready.” 

Natasha blinked in surprise. “You’re ready?” she echoed. Just like that he was ready to seal his fate. 

He nodded his head, blue eyes steely with determination. “Yes, I”m ready.” 

Natasha had expected more push back. It was his humanity he was giving up, leaving the sane existence he’d know for a world he had no idea existed an hour ago. “Are you sure?” 

“Are you trying to talk me out of it?” Clint asked, arching an eyebrow at her. 

Natasha suppressed a laugh at what she thought may have been his stern expression. “I just want you to be sure.” 

She was ecstatic of course — she wouldn’t have to kill him — but at the same time it was unnerving how quickly he had resigned himself to a life in the shadows. She expected more push back or at least more mourning of a life he would be losing. “I’ve been waiting for something and I think this is it.” he replied. “There’s a reason I haven’t left Iowa and this is why. I’m ready. Bite me, or whatever.” 

‘Bite me, or whatever’ -- an approach that seemed very Clint-like. Natasha was getting a feel for him but at the same time she felt as though she’d known him forever. Even the way he surprised her felt familiar. Natasha stood up, careful to move at human speed. She leaned down to brush her lips against Clint’s. They were soft and yielding to her own and she eagerly anticipated when their lips would press together properly. Clint’s breathing was fast but steady. He wasn’t panicking but he was frightened, exactly as was expected. She ghosted her lips over his cheek and he didn’t shy from her cold lips. She inhaled his scent, let the fire rage in her throat, and she scraped the tip of her nose over the carotid artery in his neck. The urge to feed prickled at her, throat searing furiously to remind her just how good he smelled and how delicious he would be. Natasha firmly ignored it, leaning back. 

“How long have you booked the room for?” 

Clint looked a bit dazed but he blinked out of it when Natasha left his personal space. “Uh, er… I’m supposed to be out by eleven tomorrow.” 

“You should go to the office and extend that.” Natasha decided, stepping aside to urge him to so. Now he had so readily accepted his fate she was anxious to seal it, to make him hers officially. “A week, I’d say.” 

Clint’s eyes widened. “It takes that long?” 

“No, but I’d like some time with you before I bring you home.” And a newborn vampire needed space to adjust without three others adding stress. 

“Home?” he asked, suddenly curious. “What’s that like?” 

“It’s a house. The rest of my coven is there.” 

Clint’s eyes widened. “As in more vampires? All living together?” he shuddered. “Must be a lot of blood drinking happening in whatever town you’re staying in.” 

“We don’t hunt the same areas,” Natasha replied. “We’re careful.” 

“I guess you’d have to be right?” Clint stood up. “I’ll go extend my stay. You’ll still be here right? You won’t turn into a bat and fly away?” 

Natasha smiled. “I’ll be right here,” she assured him. 

He went to the door, paused and asked again — just to be sure — and then Natasha was alone. She zipped around the room, taking in every detail in the span of a few seconds. The room was saturated in layers of scents but Clint’s was most potent. It was concentrated and ambrosial; Natasha felt a bit like an addict as he inhaled deeply ignoring the searing pain it caused her. A glutton for pain, it seemed, as she kept coming back for more. Breathing deeply. She schooled herself as she heard Clint’s footsteps coming back and he unlocked the door, the key jingling against the door tag. 

He looked for her instantly and tension melted from his shoulders when his eyes landed on her. “Oh,” he said. “You’re still here.” 

“I told you I would be.” 

“I guess I was waiting for it to all have been a hallucination.” Clint shrugged his shoulders. “The room is mine — well, ours — for the next week. What’s next?” 

Natasha approached him. He was taller than she was and he looked down at her with a smile that was both trusting and fearful. It was an expected reaction and Natasha reached up to stroke his jawline. His skin was warm and soft and soon it would be cold and hard. Either way it would be perfect. She took his hand, led him to the bed and sat him on the edge. He was tense but moved willingly, docile. Natasha’s lips graved the shell of his ear as she breathed, “You don’t understand how much I already love you, Clint Barton.” 

“I think I have a pretty good idea,” he murmured in return. “And the feeling’s mutual.” 

Natashsa bared her razor sharp teeth and bit down, arms coming around to wrap around Clint as his body spasmed in pain. His blue eyes bulged and his mouth fell open in a silent scream and the burn of the venom started to spread through him. “It’ll be over soon enough, love.” 

She lifted him up with ease and laid him on the bed. His body was rigid and Natasha sat on the edge, smoothing his bangs from his eyes. 

“It’ll be over soon,” she assured him again and she hoped desperately that she was right. 

•• •• •• ••

The sun rose and set and rose again before Clint stirred. 

He regained motion slowly, reanimating bit by bit. Natasha walked on like a hawk. She had feared something going wrong despite the flawless transformation that Bucky had gone through. This one meant more to her and her entire being rested its completion. When Clint’s eyes fluttered open, cardinal red eyes blazing, Natasha finally felt a flicker of ease. 

“Clint,” she breathed. 

He was up in seconds, on the other side of the room, looking around wildly. It was a lot to process, an overwhelming amount of senses assaulting him all at once and Natasha sorely wished she could have broken the experience up into bite sized pieces for him. His vividly red eyes found her and his posture relaxed incrementally.

“Natasha.” His voice had changed a bit, smooth as silk with a softened baritone. It wasn’t quite as booming and aggressive but still pointedly male. 

“Clint,” she stood up and took a step forward. She wouldn’t crowd him; she didn’t want to trigger his body into a fight or flight mode. The sun hadn’t quite finished setting and Natasha was weaker than a newborn. “Are you okay?” 

Clint didn’t reply immediately, staring at her. Her own instincts told her that a newborn staring her down wasn’t a good thing but she held firm. This was Clint, not some random vampire. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered. 

If Natasha could blush, she would have. “You’re not looking too bad yourself, hot shot.” 

Clint grinned and she fought not to flinch at the flash of teeth. It was Clint not some random newborn she’d stumbled across. He wouldn't hurt her — she was certain of that. “I thought I knew but…” he paused, hearing himself for the first time. “My voice is so different.” 

“I don’t think it’s too different.” It’d smoothed out a bit, deeper a touch, but beyond that it was the same. Just a tad bit more desirable to listen to. 

Clint looked down at his arms and Natasha realized he was looking for his tattoo. He frowned down at his forearm, fingers trailing over where the arrow had once been ingrained into his skin. “I guess you weren't kidding, it really is gone.” Clint looked around. “Everything’s so clear. I can hear people move around outside, the TVs of other rooms... ” 

Natasha knew it was only a matter of time before the overwhelming senses gave way to his thirst. The sun was sinking lower and within the next ten minutes it would be safe for Natasha to take him out to hunt. The thirst hit him and it packed a wallop. He staggered back half a step, hand flying up to grip his throat as though he could smother the fire from the outside. He choked and looked at Natasha with pleading eyes. Natasha rushed to his side, abandoning all precautions in favor of protecting him. 

“I know, love. I know. Soon we’ll fix it. We have to wait for the sun. Think about something else, it makes it easier to deal with…” An idea struck her and she took his hand. It felt warm and soft but she knew it was just as cold and hard as her own, and brought him to the window. She held her arm out into one of the narrow slivers of light coming in from the setting sun. The sun hit her skin and bounced off in a brilliant rainbow of colors, glittering. Clint’s hand left his throat as his mouth fell slightly ajar. “This is the reaction to the sun I was talking about. Here.” 

She took his hand and pulled into the light. The bright glimmer caught his attention and he was successfully distracted from his need to hunt. As the sun set he watched the sun bouncing off his skin, glittering like thousands of diamonds, and when the sun no longer reacted and dusk had fallen, Natasha told him to change into dark clothes. He didn’t hesitate too, frowning as his sweaters strained on his new broader shoulders. He marveled at his abdomen, the firm flesh had been shaped into muscular ridges and he let his fingers trail over them as he whispered, “Cool, abs.” 

Natasha smiled and let him enjoy his new body. She was eager to do the same but not until all his needs were met. Once he was dressed appropriately — she wasn’t in a rose colored blouse and tapered beige pants she’d changed into before she left — they headed out. Traffic was still relatively heavy, everyone heading home. Natasha wasn’t planning on hunting in the city. She intended on bringing him to Pine Lake and finding rural campers. A perfect striking point. Natasha held Clint’s arm as they walked, both out of want and need. She was there to keep him on track, to help keep him under control when being around so many potential meals was undoubtedly overwhelming him. They left the busiest part of the city and, once free of human eyes, Natasha came to a stop. 

Clint paused, clearly impatient, and looked at her. “Follow me,” she ordered and began to run. 

She heard Clint sputter in shock and then gasp in shock as he realized his own speed. He was at her side with ease and even pulled ahead. He was fast, Natasha realized. Faster than her. Despite his speed he kept to her pace, letting her lead him to the state park. It didn’t long to find a group of campers but it was too large so Natasha intended to move on. 

Clint didn’t. 

He lunged from the trees and grabbed a woman drinking from a water bottle. A scream pierced the air as the woman beside her dove out of the way and watched Clint sink his teeth in her throat. Natasha moved quickly, snapping a neck a second until all that remained was five bodies and a cheery crackling fire. Panic ebbed in her as he waited and listened for anyone who may have heard the scream and decided to investigate. There was another camp only a half mile away but they were older — perhaps they had mistaken the scream as a shriek of youth fun? Clint was still feeding, blood soaking his chin and sweatshirt. Natasha sighed. It had been far more simple turning Bucky when they were rural. She should have been smarter about it but now it was too late. She packed up the tents and scuffed out the fire. She was hesitant about leaving Clint at first but with five hot fresh bodies at his disposal he wouldn’t be going anywhere.

Under the cover of night she dragged their tents and packs to the bottom of the lake in the very second of the lake, lodging it under a boulder and some driftwood. It would never surface. What happened to the five young women would die with them. She’d take care of the bodies when Clint was done. When she emerged, sopping wet, Clint was draining the third body at a significantly slower pace. Lives wasted all over a mistake. It wasn’t Clint’s mistake though, it was Natasha’s. She knew that self control was nearly non-existent in newborns. She should have thought things through better. Natasha sat on a log and watched Clint feed. He pushed the third body away, started on the fourth and dropped it with a satisfied moan after a few seconds. Natasha moved forward to drain her the rest of the way. 

Waste not, want not. 

“That was amazing,” Clint said, eyes blazing. “I feel so…strong.” 

Natasha wanted to be stern with him but couldn’t find it in her to place any blame on him. She should have had a better plan. “Blood does that to you,” she said when she finished the fourth body. The fifth lay between them and she nodded at it. “Do you mind?” 

“Go ahead. I feel kinda…sloshy.” 

Natasha smiled. “That’s what happens when you drain over three bodies.” 

“I was thirsty,” Clint protested looking hurt. 

“I was kidding,” Natasha said quickly. 

Newborns were emotional, she had to remember that. The bloodlust she’d experienced with Bucky was in the front of her mind but it didn’t seem to be the direction they were going. There was no thrill of the kill, it was something else between them. Something that went deeper than physical responses. She was loving every moment of it, good, bad and ugly. And this was certainly an ugly moment but her adoration for the man — the vampire — hadn’t been affected in the slightest. 

“Oh.” He frowned and looked around as though it was suddenly hitting him. “Oh God, I just drank blood.” 

“You did.” 

“I feel like I should feel sick but I don’t.” 

“It’s what your new body needs to survive.” 

“Did you have to kill all of them?” he asked, suddenly accusatory. 

“No witnesses,” she reminded him and the righteousness faded to understanding. 

“Oh right.” he blew out a breath. “Shouldn’t we run away now?” 

“I have to hide the bodies.” 

He seemed to notice the lack of tents and nodded after a moment. “I should help, right?” 

It would be good to be able to keep an eye on him. “It would be helpful.” 

Clint nodded his head and hoisted one bloodless body over his shoulder, marveling at how light it was. “It’s like they weigh nothing.” 

Despite the task at hand Natasha smiled. “I told you we’re strong.” 

“I didn’t think it was this strong. And the running is incredible too… You kinda undersold this whole vampire experience. Minus all murder this is pretty awesome.” 

Natasha smiled. “I’m glad you think so. Now let’s get rid of these bodies before more pile up.” 

“Ma’am yes ma’am.” 

With a smile, she shook her head, heading through the trees towards the dark body of water. 

•• •• •• ••

Arriving back at the motel felt a bit surreal. So did stripping Clint from his bodied clothes and cramming their bodies into a shower meant for one. Clint’s new body, hard and compact with muscle dwarfed Natasha’s petite frame. His hand roamed over his body, touch gentle and assertive all at once. Natasha didn’t mind in the slightest, touching him as she’d dreamt of doing since she’d found a name for her feelings. She didn’t have any fear when he kissed her throat, didn’t flinch when his sharp teeth grazed harmlessly against her shoulder, lips dragging over his collarbones, tongue lapping at the water gathered in the hollow of her throat. He slotted his thigh between her legs, pressing against the shower wall. She rode it, grinding against the firm muscle while Clint toyed with her breasts. Her first orgasm came hard and fast, back arching and her head hitting the shower wall hard enough to crack the tile. Natashsa paid it no mind, catching Clint’s lips with a heated kiss. 

He turned her around, pulled her hips out, Natasha braced her forearms against the shower wall and widened her stance. Clint rubbed his thumb roughly over his clit sending a delicate shiver through her and then sunk in. They groaned in key, one low, one high, and Clint started to move slowly at first but as he got lost in the friction more erratically. Natasha didn’t mind, completely consumed by the sensation of being so full. He filled her so perfectly, not too much, no empty space. It was like he’d made for her — he had been made for her. 

They fell into bed, naked and damp, and continued when they left off. For three days all they did was make love. Sometimes it was slow and sensuous and other times it was rough and fast. Each time felt better than the last and Natasha always finished anticipating the next time they would begin. 

Their week felt too short and by the time check out came, she was sorry to leave their nest of love making. The sun was setting and they Clint grabbed his pack. “I’m going to go check out.” 

“I should do it.” 

“What, why?” 

“Because they’ll notice you look different,” Natasha replied, holding her hand out. “Key, please.” 

Clint dropped it in her palm and got back to stuffing his clothes in his pack. Natasha crossed the near empty parking lot to the twenty four hour office. It was just shy of eight o’clock but the worker had settled in with a racy covered grocery store romance. She didn’t notice her immediately, turning the page, muddy eyes focused on the book alone. Natasha rapped her knuckles against the plexiglass and the woman sighed heavily though it caught in her throat as she caught sight of her. She quickly put down the book. 

“Checking in?” 

“Out, actually.” 

“Check out isn’t until eleven tomorrow morning.” 

“We wanted to get going a little early.” She slid the key though the gap in the window. “Thank you.” 

She nodded mutely and Natasha returned to the room to find Clint all packed up. “How’d it go?” 

“Fine.” Natasha looked fondly around the motel room. “We’ll have to come back here someday.” 

“Definitely.” Clint agreed and cut the space between them, lifting her chin and kissing her hard on the mouth. “I love you, Natasha.” 

“I love you too Clint. And I will forever.”


End file.
